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Cindy
Droog
Read Cindy's bio and previous columns
January 28, 2008
Brother vs. Brother; Boss vs. Boss
Now that we’ve had our
second son, we’re finding it hard to refrain from comparing him to his
big brother. It seems the most frequent way we start a sentence these
days is, “Well, when his brother was that age . . .”
It’s an awful habit.
One we have to break before he’s old enough to get an identity complex.
It’s bad enough that my husband tends to call him by his older brother’s
name. In my hubby’s defense, he was the youngest of three boys. So, when
he got in trouble, I’m sure the yelling started with, “Freddy, Dave . .
. I mean . . .you!”
So I made a vow to go
an entire day without doing any brother vs. brother contrasting.
Instead, I had lunch with my old boss. But in the car on the way home, I
realized that comparison avoidance is nearly impossible.
It started with me
analyzing the differences between him and my current boss. One talks to
me about in-depth company issues each month for 45 minutes at a
pre-scheduled meeting. The other popped into my office unannounced to
talk with me about these things daily.
Which approach do I
prefer? Well, each has its ups and downs. On one hand, I’m the curious
type. Always have been. When that goofy “Inquiring Minds Want to Know”
commercial for the National Enquirer was popular, my dad had it
blown up on a poster and hung in my room. So knowing everything – even
the company’s dirty laundry – can work for me.
On the other hand,
there are some things, that as an employee, I am better off not knowing.
Like which coworker finds her talents immensely superior to mine. Or how
the housekeeping staff doesn’t do a good enough job neutralizing the
stale chili smell in the men’s bathroom.
There are more
differences. One boss boldly – and happily, I might add – goes to a
number of meetings even Corporate Superman would have a hard time
attending. If I went to that many meetings, I’d need a straight jacket.
My old boss and I had
that in common, so it’s clear which one I preferred in that department.
In fact, it wasn’t unheard of for my old boss and me to look at a week’s
calendar and take the “divide and conquer” approach in order to prevent
us both ending up in a rubber room by Friday afternoon.
But just like people in
general, what they have in common is much more important than their
differences: primarily, respect for me, and for working moms and dads in
general.
Brother vs. brother.
Boss vs. boss. When it comes to the people in our lives, the comparisons
certainly don’t end there. Back when my husband was my boyfriend, I
compared him to boyfriends of the past. Of course, he was nicer to me.
Smarter, funnier. At least he seemed so. Probably because he knew about
– and knew how to laugh about – many of the same things I did.
I even compare myself
and the things I do to my own mom. She called me “doodlebug” until well
into my 20s and I hated it. Yet much to my dismay, I happened to call my
son doodlebug just the other day. I wrote it off as an accident, a slip
of the tongue. But then I realized something. I only thought I
hated the moniker. In fact, I loved it. I could depend on being called
it just like I could always depend on my mom.
So when it comes to
comparing brother to brother, boss to boss, boyfriend to boyfriend, or
birth-giver to birth-giver, I don’t do it because I’m one of those
people who thinks the grass is always greener on the other side. Rather,
it’s to take the best of my world – past and present – and use it to
teach my kids to live in the moment. Even if we’ve just called them
their brother’s name. Or some fictional insect.
© 2008 North Star Writers
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